


A Good Fight

by carvedwhalebones (fuckyeahlucifersupernatural)



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:14:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/carvedwhalebones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daud and Teague Martin first met each other, they greeted the other with blood and barred teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Fight

**Author's Note:**

> **Dishonored Tumblr Blog:** carvedwhalebones.tumblr.com

When he first meets Teague Martin, he stabs the younger male in the thigh and pushes the bolt in his shoulder a bit deeper. He leaves him bleeding on the rooftop where the morning’s rain has made the floor soggy with trash and muddy water that has been sitting in the cracks and pockets of the roof. The kid should know by now that Overseers don’t live long. Death is more faithful to its creed than the religious. He’ll make sure to raise his glass later on tonight in the kid’s honor for giving him a good fight. 

Teague is in his early thirties when he first lays his eyes on Daud. He’s new to the Overseers and is met with skepticism. Those who are initiated as an adult have more to prove in faith than those who were plucked as child. Teague has seen the cells the Overseers keep the young children who will be shipped off to Whitecliff. They’re more kennels than anything else, feeding them scraps. It explains the blunt and fanatical personalities of his colleagues. It explains how murky the Abbey of the Everyman is, but Teague joined for a variety of reasons: salvation and ambition. Two dichotomous goals and it makes the young Overseer sharper than his peers. He’s a self-aware sinner with Strictures on his tongue. 

Despite his charisma, good work, southern isle drawl and charm, he’s still low on the pecking order. Meaning, he’s stuck on night patrol and has, yet, to even get his own wolfhound. Teague sighs and turns to his right to see if one of his fellow Overseers are near before rifling through his uniform for a packet of cigarettes. He keeps his eyes fixated about him, lighting it in the chilled night air before taking a hungry inhale. Judging from the thick cloak of grayed-out clouds suffocating the sky, it might just rain later on tonight. Teague grumbles in dismay, enjoying his cigarette before his peers begin to walk towards his area. 

Teague doesn’t quite realize how infuriating his actions are to the assassin crouched behind a few crates. All the Overseers usually keep their line of sight in one area before turning completely to face the other. This Overseer looks everywhere all at once. He’s constantly searching the buildings with his eyes. He’s constantly moving and looking back, grating on the assassin’s nerves. If he transverses on the rooftop, the damn pious fool will see him. He keeps on looking up. Keeps on looking down. There is no order to his movements, his line of sight changing randomly. It doesn’t quite matter if he backtracks, because this is the only way out. Someway or another he has to go through this Overseer. 

Daud rubs at his forehead in disbelief, scanning his surroundings for something that could possibly be a distraction. He is only given wet newspapers, their ink running into the street. “Shit,” he sighs, shifting around the crates to get a better look. 

This Overseer is not like his peers. He moves with purpose and a deadly sense of grace, a sleek animal wearing a mask. Even with the cigarette between his lips, pushed through the opening of the mouthpiece, the Overseer is observant and acutely aware of the world around him. Daud would have admired this anomaly if it wasn’t for the fact it’s this very Overseer who is stalling the competition of his mission. He would rather evade attention, but the longer he waits, the clearer it becomes he is going to have to use brute force to take this one down. 

Fixating on the spot right behind the Overseer, he fails to miss the sudden lift of his head, as if something has caught its attention. Daud transverses to the spot behind the Overseer as he drops his cigarette, surprised when the Overseer whips around instantly and punches him square in the jaw. The assassin reels back in surprise, a gloved hand touching his jaw. By the Void, it fuckin’ hurt. 

“You’re good,” he admits, straightening up and cracking his neck. He’s not sure how the hell the kid knew he was behind him, but color him impressed. 

“I sensed you were here for a while now. I don’t know your footsteps,” the Overseer replies with something akin to smugness, body lithe and ready to strike. Daud gives a sound in his throat in amusement. He’s going to have to save that line and tweak it for later use. 

Daud moves out of the way and avoids the next strike, eyes darting upward to scan the damn roof. If he doesn’t have an image in his mind, he can end up falling a story and breaking a leg. The damn kid is quick and takes the opportunity to pull his pistol out. A shot goes ringing out before Daud can stop the trigger from being pulled, the sound of barking not too far away. The assassin was, fortunately, quick to move out of the way, pushing the Overseer’s arm up so the bullet fired up. 

The brat is quick and plays dirty, he headbutts him with that infernal mask. Daud staggers back, but his grip is unrelenting. He rips the pistol out of the Overseer’s grip as his head throbs. It’s too late for subtly, the gunshot having aroused suspicion from neighboring Overseers. His left hand burns for attention, energy cackling through his veins as he watches the Overseer move for his sword. With a flick of his fingers, he sends the Overseer flying back with a gust of violent wind. It sends him into the wall of the building across them, mask flung off and sword skittering across the cobblestone. Daud doesn’t bother to examine more of the scene, instead backs up and turns upward before pulling himself up with The Void onto the rooftop. Just as he expected, spotlights are being turned on and a few guards with their wolfhounds are beginning to approach the area. 

Daud sighs and catches his breath, he rather not have the alarms go off. He still has time to at least drag the Overseer’s body into a corner to avoid suspicion. Turning to the spot below him, he notices that the slumped body of the Overseer is suddenly missing from below. The assassin furrows his brows in wariness, deciding he needs to keep moving when a thick forearm presses against his jugular. There is a body flushed against him and Daud rams his elbow into the Overseer’s gut until his grip finally eases, giving him the room to pull out. Daud stares at pallid blue eyes narrowed in determination, a gloved hand holding his side and looking far from some ‘kid.’ Something lethal stares at him, full of grit and poise. Being an Overseer is wasted on this one. 

As much as he’d love to spar with this one, he’s on a schedule. Daud moves his left hand, the younger male’s gaze falling straight to it as his right hand rises at the distraction. A bolt fires out and catches the Overseer in the shoulder, earning a grunt and hiss in pain. “Take my advice and stop while you can,” Daud states, but the Overseer is stubborn. He only charges forward like a bull and Daud can already tell he’s going to be a bit unhappy about killing this one. He has some guts and spirit. He can admire that. 

The wound to the Overseer’s shoulder makes his movements a bit sloppy, shifting his own body and cocking his fist back to knock him out. But Teague Martin is made out of something completely different. He wasn’t built by the Abbey. He was built by blood, sweat and strategy. Overseer Teague Martin is a strategist. He lives his life in moves and weighs his options. Whoever this man is, is quick and carries some sort of power over the black arts. That doesn’t intimidate him, it only makes him smarter and more hungry for victory. The pain in his shoulder only makes him want to sink his teeth into this intruder. 

He anticipates the swing and moves out of the way, using the momentum of the assassin’s strike to his advantage. His left hand grabs the assassin’s left wrist, his right hand grips his shoulder and pulls down, his right leg kicking the assassin’s feet from underneath him. The pain is his shoulder is hot and he can feel the blood pouring out, soaking his uniform, but Martin would rather die on his feet than lay helpless on the floor. He follows Daud’s fallen body, hand still on his wrist and knee pinning the fallen man down, digging into his chest. 

The assassin grunts in surprise, winded, but his hand reaches out and pushes the bolt fiercely further into Teague’s frame. There is a yelp of pain and a quick answer of a punch striking the assassin in the nose. Daud relentlessly keeps on pushing, burying the bolt deeper until the yelp manifests into a choked cry. The Overseer eventually pulls back, digging his fingers around the bolt, teeth barred like a wounded animal. His knees shake and he falls heavy on them, swearing heatedly under his breath.

Daud licks the blood on his lips that is spilling from his nose, gives the Overseer a smile. His fingers reach for his belt and he pulls out a small knife, rounding up on the Overseer. He kicks the man hard in the face, pleased when his nose begins to spill blood just like his own. The Overseer doesn’t make a sound in pain. He only snarls. A deep and low sound and it’s too fuckin’ bad he can’t make this one one of his own. It’s been a while since someone actually knocked him off his feet. The Overseer is terrifyingly beautiful like this. Blood is streaking down his face, blue eyes are nothing but encrusted slivers of ice and he’s refusing to be tamed by pain. Crouching down to the swaying Overseer that is glaring at him, Daud shoves the knife into the flesh of the man’s right thigh. That has him groaning in pain, body doubling over and gloved hands trying to rip his off the knife’s hilt. Daud only twists it, listening to the groan twist into a cry. 

“That’s so you can’t follow me,” he explains, patting the man’s cheek as he gets up. He sprints across the rooftop and jumps onto the next, glancing behind him to only swear in bafflement. The moron is pushing himself up, trying to keep up the chase. Daud is unsure if he thinks the man is pathetic or flat out dangerous to his very core. Daud’s not sure why he keeps on watching the man struggle. He’s going to die soon if he keeps on disturbing the wounds. The Overseer trudges on, struggling to get to his feet and it takes a minute before he slumps on his side. 

He should leave, his only obstacle now eradicated. The sooner the better; the Overseers are going to eventually notice one of their comrades is conveniently missing where the sound of a pistol resounded. 

Daud doesn’t know what on earth compels him to transverse back, cautiously staring at the passed out body of the Overseer. He’s bleeding profusely, the wool of his uniform soaked with blood. His first thought is not to shoot this wounded animal in the skull, but to give it mercy. Something about it deeply concerns him, rubbing at his forehead aggressively. He should just leave the Overseer or stomp on his skull. Those are the only options that make cognizant sense. 

There’s not much he can do with the limited supplies on him anyways. Daud bounces around the idea of summoning one of his pupils to just take care of it, but instead he’s undoing his coat and ripping at his shirtsleeves. He shakes his head the entire time he tries to patch up the Overseer. It takes an hour for him to stop the bleeding, the Overseer terribly pale, and a few minutes to dispose him in a room filled with bunk beds. It’s all stupid and he’s certain The Outsider is laughing away in The Void, finding nothing but humor in his actions. 

Daud works his jaw and leaves the knife he plunged into the Overseer’s thigh next to the bunk bed. Something tells him that he’ll see this one, again. The Overseer got a taste of his blood and he’s sure to hunt to him down. Daud will make sure to raise his glass later on tonight in the Overseer’s honor for giving him a good fight.

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  **A/N:** I've read a lot of amazing first meetings between those two, and I just can't help but imagine that those two would have been at each other's throat before they come to some middle ground. That middle ground is probably some very angry, angry sex. And it sort of evolves from there.


End file.
